It's getting cold here on the island. I detect a chilly, perhaps Icelandic, wind blowing from the north. Hmm, hope I packed a sweater.

Bjork, "Homogenic" (1997)

I've been lucky enough to see Bjork twice on her current North American tour, most recently Tuesday at Detroit's Fox Theatre. I'll try to avoid drooling all over my keyboard, but her performance of "Army of Me" is one of the greatest live spectacles I've ever watched.

Each of her albums is worth hearing for different reasons, but 1997's "Homogenic" is where it all came together -- the meaty electronic beats, the swooping orchestrations, the meticulous melodic construction, and good Lord, that voice.

At the show, backed by beat programmers and a 10-piece Icelandic women's brass choir, Bjork played several of the album's highlights. "Hunter," the ominous opener, came early in the set, as did the spine-tingling "Joga." The album is rounded out by breathtaking slower numbers such as "Unravel" and "All Is Full of Love" (which was admittedly better when remixed on her greatest-hits collection), and thrilling rave-ups like "Alarm Call" and "Pluto."

I've noticed something interesting at Bjork shows: Her crowd, strangely, is very male. At the concerts, and while standing in line for tickets, I was surrounded by dudes who were roughly my age, and I'm not sure why.

I was discussing this anomaly in an e-mail exchange with Kelli Bodle, a brilliant woman I know in Chicago, and this was her take on it:

"My hypothesis about the excess of men has to do with sexual fantasies, and nothing less. I think I have been reading too much Freud. But last I heard Bjork was married to the artist Matthew Barney, which would definitely mean she is kinky in the bedroom, so the fantasies may not be unfounded."

Well, I'll go ahead and plead guilty to that charge. Bjork is definitely the target of a lot of well-deserved fanboy affection. But I think it goes a little deeper than mere physicality.

Bjork, or at least the persona she projects, represents a type of femininity that is relatively overlooked in modern culture -- the pagan Earth-mother, nurturer-of-the-tribe, goddess-of-nature figure. That persona was first developed on "Post" (notably on the track "Isobel") and is thoroughly and wonderfully realized on "Homogenic."

The lyrics and musical production evoke the arid landscapes of her native Iceland and the breadth of the frigid ocean surrounding it. Hearing her sing is like witnessing a force of nature, akin to watching steam burst from a geyser.

"Homogenic" is one of those great, singular albums that seems to exist in its own weird context, completely pure, anachronistic and untouched by outside influences. Truly a classic. Or maybe I'm just fantasizing about Bjork again.